


The Lightning Strike

by AwakeMySoul, jarofhearts



Series: Believing in Nothing but Miracles [1]
Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Canon - Book & Movie Combination, Developing Relationship, Drama, Falling In Love, Fluff, Freeform, Gladers are Family, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, M/M, Minor Character Death, Originally Posted on Tumblr, POV Alternating, Romance, The Maze Runner Retold, Tumblr Roleplay
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-05 04:00:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3104807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwakeMySoul/pseuds/AwakeMySoul, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarofhearts/pseuds/jarofhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"My memory loves you... it asks about you all the time." - Jonathan Carroll</p><p>When Thomas wakes up in a place he doesn't know, and all his memories are gone, the last thing he expects to find is a sense of purpose. And even less a face that some forgotten memory of his wants to claim for itself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chasing visions of our futures (Rise and rise again)

**Author's Note:**

> This is a project that has started out with a lot of 'what if's. It was born out of the desire to capture a relationship how we wanted it to develope, not how it actually did. And because we love the possibilities Tumblr offers for individual storytelling, this is where we decided to tell our story, and where we want to direct you first.
> 
> [Thomas](subject-a-two.tumblr.com) and [Newt](butwewillriseandriseagain) are our two Tumblr accounts where we actively tell this story, and where everything will be posted first before we'll eventually transfer the various chapters here to AO3. Since on these accounts we paint pictures of our characters, their relationships, and the story that goes beyond mere text, using pictures, quotes, music, and whatever else we can find, we want to encourage you to browse both of them as we'll update them much more regularly than we will here on AO3 - if you're in the mood, of course. ;)
> 
> That style of storytelling is mirrored here, as everything is written in alternating point of views, and we tried to visualise this as well.
> 
> Additionally we feel it's important to add that our story consists of a complete mixture of book and movie - basically we took whatever bits and pieces we liked and changed stuff around, added and left out whatever we wanted. That means we're changing canon around, like for example the fact that Thomas spends more than a couple of days in the Glade, even though much of the spine of the story remains the same, with a couple of our own twists along the way. The characterisations are based mostly on the portrayals of the film though.
> 
> All that said (wow, turned into half a novel), we really hope you'll enjoy where we decided to go with this. If you ever have any questions about anything at all, we'd love to hear from you, and comments, of course, basically make our whole week.
> 
> Have fun! :)  
> \- teti & narya
    
    
    Day 1
    Maze Trials, Site A
    The Arrival

* * *

He wakes with a start, his heart pounding furiously against his ribs as he tries to get some air into his lungs. It hurts and feels like he’s coming back from drowning in cold water, coughing and choking as he tries to calm himself and his lungs. But panic creeps up to him as he realises that there is total darkness surrounding him.

Or is something wrong with his eyes?

Picking himself up from the floor he carefully takes a step forward, shaking when he feels nothing stopping him. Just emptiness and more darkness.

He isn’t sure if he should risk another step or two.

He isn’t sure if it’s safe.

He doesn’t understand what's happening.

He doesn’t remember how -

He doesn’t remember anything.

There’s nothing but a gaping hole where he thinks his memories should be. He suddenly feels sick with fear and panic, shivering and shaking, his body fighting against the urge to throw up or faint.

A sudden lurch throws him down to a metallic floor, a low mechanical noise echoing in his ears as he senses a movement of the room… or whatever this is.

Fear is now crashing over him like waves and instinct makes him scramble backwards until he hits a solid wall with a dull bang. But all he's able to do is sit and wait.

For what he isn’t sure.

After what feels like an eternity. the movement finally stops and something above him shifts and opens.

He holds his breath, waiting as his vision fills with light. White and bright and sharp, hurting his eyes as he squints into it.

There are dark silhouettes moving against the brightness, uncoordinated, undefined, and when he identifies them as shapes of actual people, he feels his heart beating even more furiously in his chest.

He’s scared.

So fucking scared because he doesn’t understand how he ended up here and what’s happening to him. And who those people are.

They’re laughing.

Boys, he realises, and suddenly there are rough hands pulling him up and pushing him over the edge of the box.

Then he hears the words he will never forget.

“Welcome to the Glade, Greenie.”

The next thing he knows is running.

Running with fear on his heels and panic inside his chest.

Running away from the group of boys who are still laughing tauntingly at him until he stumbles and hits the grassy ground hard.

That’s when he first sees the walls. Everywhere, surrounding them. Tall and high and overgrown with ivy.

He wants to scream, ask questions and demand answers.

But he’s forcefully pulled from the ground and tugged along over it even though he struggles and fights, finally finding his voice to protest, to shout, to curse and swear.

He knows it’s a futile attempt the moment he gets thrown into another dark hole in the ground with a wooden gate keeping him inside.

After a moment he’s completely alone again. Waiting again, and still not knowing for what.  
  
---  
  
 

* * *

* * *

 
    
    
    Day 848
    Maze Trials, Site A
    Introduction of Subject A2

* * *

There’s nothing different about it. Nothing at all.

Except that… there is.

Newt watches the boy squinting into the light, the same disorientation, confusion, fear as every month. The same blankness of memory. Everything as it has been for more than two years. Only…

Newt’s grinning along with the others as they laugh, but inwardly thinks, ‘Poor bugger.’

It’s one of the most beautiful days in the Glade, one of those where the sun shines brightly down on the backs of their necks and no cloud bothers rolling past.

He wonders what the new boy is like as he watches him run. Athletic, fast. Fast is always good. They’ll see what else. And there is something…

He can’t help laughing as the boy face-plants right into the grass. At least he isn’t crying. Newt is  _so_  tired of those who need a lot, a _lot_ of gentle coaxing before they can even be given the tour. It always makes his gut twist in regret, in cold fury, and brings curses to his lips reserved for the other boys who leave this up to him, but that he never voices.

Because in the end he’ll never let anyone else do it, really. They’re all…  _boys_.

Fuck, they’re all just kids. No matter how old he sometimes feels.

Newt pushes the thought away as soon as it surfaces, and looks over to exchange a brief glance with Alby.

"Alright, show’s over," he says then, finally directing his attention back to the rest of the Gladers, starting to shoo them all off with subtle gestures. "Come on, we’ve all got work to do."

The Greenie is staring at the walls around them in horrified awe, and Newt feels that stab of pity again. ‘Yeah, this is your life now,’ he can’t help thinking, wondering how quickly that will sink in. How quickly he’ll be able to accept that.

There is something about him. Something that…

_No. Don’t be ridiculous._

It’s like these moments where you can’t understand the thought you had just a second ago. It perplexes Newt somewhat, but in the end he has a hell of a lot more important things to do.

Because there is, after all, nothing that different about this at all.  
  
---  
  
* * *

 

  


credit @ [isaacbloodynewton](http://isaacbloodynewton.co.vu/post/104697870611/newt-and-thomas-staring-at-each-other)


	2. Hey Mr. Curiosity


    Day 848
    Maze Trials, Site A
    Convergence

* * *

Moments like these are maybe his favourite in the Glade.

He loves the golden sparks that are flying up into the night air from the bonfire, and that there’s laughter echoing over the drums. Loves that he can toast and drink with the others, that they’re all here and safe for at least one more night. That they have come this far. That they haven’t lost anyone all month.

“Dance! Come on, I wanna see the dance, you promised I’d get to learn it today!”

“Later, Chuck,” he laughs and waves the boy off, giving Adam a grateful grin when he distracts him with a different promise of letting him try his drink. Newt raises his own glass jar and takes another sip of it, long having started to relish the way it burns down his throat. Grounding.

Alby looks happy, slings his arm around his neck when they fall into step next to each other.

“What do you think of him?” Newt wants to know, finding himself more curious than he thought he'd be after the tour, the first real introduction.

Alby shrugs. “He’s… I’m not sure. Takes it well so far, but I’m hoping he’s gonna stick to the rules. He’s really damn curious, didn’t look as scared as he maybe should have.”

Newt wants to say that they don’t need them scared, but doesn’t, because he’s enough of a realist to know that they kind of do. Enough to understand that the rules are there for a reason at least.

“Think I’m gonna go talk to him,” he says then, glancing over at the back of the boy’s head where he sits against the tree trunk, his back to them, alone. “See for myself.”

Alby grins, teeth white in the darkness, and pulls his arm away. “You do that. Hey,” he says and reaches over to pluck one of the spits with freshly grilled meat from Frypan's large serving plate as they pass it, pushing it into Newt’s hand. “Eat,” he orders, flashes him another grin, and walks off.

Newt has to roll his eyes, twirls the spit in his fingers for a moment, and sets off in the other direction. He doesn’t ask if he’s welcome or not, doesn’t say a thing, just climbs over the tree trunk and settles down on the grass against it.

The meat, when he bites into it, is pretty damn good.  
  
---  
  
 
    
    
    Day 1
    Maze Trials, Site A
    Alignment

* * *

They tell him it's normal that he doesn’t remember a thing of his past, that it's like this for everyone and that he will get his name back again at one point or another.

But at the moment it doesn’t feel like it. Mostly it feels like he has it on the tip of his tongue until it dissolves back into the nothingness that's his memory.

He sighs and leans back against the log he has found a few steps away from the feast they're throwing.

The walls of the Maze, dark against the night, and Alby’s earlier words about it still echoing in his mind should probably scare him more than they actually do. Instead he feels confused and kind of restless like there is something he  _should_  do.

And that feeling confuses him even more.

His thoughts are still running in messy circles when he someone suddenly settles down beside him.

It’s the blond boy. The one who’s in charge when Alby isn’t around.

“You don’t have to babysit me, you know?” he says after a while when the other boy stays silent, eating some grilled meat.  
  
---  
  
 

It surprises Newt just enough for a small, amused sound and a quick, wry grin. He glances over at the other boy and lets his gaze trail over him, not bothering to hide it.

He seems calm, no nervous twitching, no subtle fiddling. Only his eyes remain wary, but Newt can’t blame him for that.

He looks back out towards the walls and takes another bite of meat. The boys behind them have started brawling, from the sounds of it, whooping and cheering and laughing.

He’s not in a hurry.

When the other boy hasn’t started nagging for an answer yet once he swallows, Newt finally turns his head fully to face him. “We don’t have the resources to babysit anyone.” The boy still hasn’t looked away from him. “What makes you think that’s what I’m here for?”  
  
---  
  
 

For reasons unknown to him, Newt’s accent sounds strangely familiar, like he must have heard it before in his earlier life. And for a second he wonders why he can remember the way British accents sound, but not his own name.

"Because everyone else is celebrating," he answers as he lets his eyes wander over the boy sitting beside him, taking in the calm and laid-back vibes he gives off. Even though he has only just met Newt, he guesses it’s one of the reasons why he’s second-in-command here.

"Even Chuck," he adds with a small grin and a slight nod to the fire where Chuck tries to get the attention of Alby, who’s seemingly in some kind of deep conversation with another kid.  
  
---  
  
 

Newt follows his gaze, craning his head back to watch the other boys by the fire for a moment. He really does like seeing them all like this, relaxed and open and untroubled just for a while.

He takes another glance at the Greenie next to him and smiles wryly. “Well I’m not everyone.”

At least the boy isn’t too closed off or sullen, makes it much easier to be around. Definitely a plus.

Newt shrugs then, however, and shifts away from a bit of bark digging into his back. “Guess I’m a bit curious about you though, not gonna deny that.”  
  
---  
  
 

Something about Newt’s admission brings a small smile to his lips. At least he’s being straightforward with him instead of pointing fingers and whispering behind his back. He really could use some honesty in this place… or really just someone who talks to him instead of ignoring his questions.

"Well, I have to disappoint you," he shrugs with a smile and points to his head. "Still a whole lot of nothing up here."  
  
---  
  
 

Self-deprecating humour. Good, he can work with that. Newt grins and finishes the meat stick, enjoying the last bite before he swallows it down and talks to the other boy again.

"Don’t worry, we’ve all been there." The disorientation will pass at least, and the name gives a bit of purpose, of identity back. He reaches between his knees for the glass jar and passes it over to the other boy. "Here."  
  
---  
  
 

"I just hope I’ll remember soon," he sighs and takes the jar from Newt’s hand, eyeing the yellow liquid it contains.

“What’s that?” he asks sceptically, unsure if he should trust the other boy (even though it already feels like he could). Newt just doesn’t seem like someone who would take part in a cruel prank, and he has already seen him drinking from it.

“You’re not poisoning all the newbies on their first evening, right?”

Without waiting for an answer he brings the jar to his lips and takes a big gulp, instantly regretting it because it basically feels like something is burning away his oesophagus.  
  
---  
  
 

The newbie’s words bring a soft chortle over his lips, he can’t help it. And when he almost spits the liquid out again, the small sound turns into a laugh. He has to admit he isn’t surprised, because, yeah, the stuff is strong, especially if you’re not used to it.

"Yeah, sorry ‘bout that," Newt grins and watches how the other boy grimaces in a, he has to admit, rather funny way, before his taste buds seem to get used to it.

"There’s no poison in there though, if that makes you feel better. But to be honest, I really don’t know what  _is_  in it,” he admits then, taking the glass jar back to drink from it again as well before looking back over the log towards the other boys, gaze settling on a familiar figure. “It’s Gally’s recipe, no idea how he makes it.”  
  
---  
  
 

“My god…  _horrible_ …”

Still coughing he follows Newt’s gaze and scowls when he sees the boy he’s pointing at.

“Ah, him,” he groans, remembering the way Gally has treated him earlier. “He’s still an ass and he hates me for no reason.”

Realising what he just said he cringes at the boldness of his own words, because he doesn’t even know if Newt and Gally are friends.

_Stupid, stupid, stupid. Think before you talk!_  
  
---  
  
 

What he says surprises Newt a little. He’s not surprised about the content, but he is surprised that the other boy speaks so boldly. Though, judging from the way the expression on his face changes, he realised himself that it might not have been the most prudent thing to say.

Good thing Newt isn’t a hothead. Or all too easily offended.

He turns back around and settles comfortably back against the tree again. “He doesn’t hate you.”

_And he’s not an ass._

Newt suppresses a sigh, not in the mood at all to dredge up that kind of regret.

"It’s just about protecting this. Us. He did save your life out there today." He takes another long sip, and it burns down inside his chest. "I get that you’re curious, but believe me, you don’t want to be stuck out there when those doors close."  
  
---  
  
 

“That really doesn’t make me feel any better.” He grimaces at the taste lingering on his tongue, and for a moment he keeps focussing on the other boys dancing and laughing around the fire.

Seeing them like that makes him wonder how they can forget the big ass maze surrounding them. He swallows dryly, looking back at Newt, who has a strangely pensive look on his face.

“Newt,” he starts quietly, almost feeling sorry for breaking the comfortable silence they have fallen into.

“What's really out there… that noise?”  
  
---  
  
 

He knows immediately what the boy is talking about, of course he does. Has heard it for more than two years now, every night like clockwork.

"The Maze changes," he replies, now serious as he watches the other boy. "Every night. ‘s what makes it a bloody nightmare to run," Newt shrugs and then, after a moment’s thought, adds, "Among others."

The small hairs on the back of his neck still stand up when he thinks of this.

"It’s a bloody awful place, Greenie. If you ever hear any kind of screeching from out there: they’re another reason. We call them Grievers."

Newt hasn’t really come here to try and frighten the boy, but he has the feeling that it isn’t going to turn out so well if he doesn’t have his questions answered.  
  
---  
  
 

Newt’s words, or maybe seeing how they affect the other boy, send a slight shudder through his body, and he has to look back at the dark towering walls, trying to imagine what would be like to run the Maze, to live with the daily fear of not being fast enough, of maybe not being able to come back.

“What are they?” he finally asks, feeling like Newt just gave him the permission he has been denied earlier.  
  
---  
  
 

At least it seems like his words do have an affect on the Greenie. That probably makes it worth it.

Probably.

"Nasty," Newt replies and offers the glass jar to him, just in case he might want to try again. "Somewhere between giant spider and scorpion, part machine, part animal. With a sting that can kill, if they don’t just…" he shrugs, gesturing for a moment, "eat you. At least they prefer to only come out at night."

He sighs and lets his gaze slide away from the dark walls to the other boy again. “But they can’t get through these walls. So as long as those doors are closed, we’re safe here.”  
  
---  
  
 

Drinking from the jar a second time doesn’t make it any better. The liquid still makes his insides curl in disgust and reluctance, but it also leaves him with a pleasant buzz.

Warm and hazy, calming his inner restlessness.

He would like to ask some more of the questions that are swirling in the back of his mind, wants to still his own curiosity, but the look on Newt’s face stops him.  

The expression speaks of another story lying there, one the boy doesn’t want to tell, and he feels like it’s not his place to know.

So they fall into a strange silence, passing the jar back and forth until it’s almost empty, and for a fleeting second he wonders why it doesn’t feel uneasy or awkward, but rather familiar.  
  
---  
  
 

It’s not the first time he does something like this, not really. He supposes there is a reason why Alby sometimes calls him mother of the gladers to rile him up, and though Newt always tells him to shut the hell up, he can’t deny that there’s probably some truth to it.

Somehow he isn’t aware of quite how long they sit there in silence, and when he realises, it surprises him. Felt more like sitting here with Alby or Minho, but not some Greenie he only just met.

To shake the thought off, Newt drinks the last bit of whatever-it-is and turns to the other boy again.

"Okay, really though, you're supposed to be the guest of honour, can’t just sit around moping all night. Come on, come on up."  
  
---  
  
 

Before he can protest, Newt has him pulled up to his feet and tugs him towards the fire where some of the boys are wrestling to self-made music while the others watch and cheer them on. Clearly a group that has been together for a long time.

“I don’t know, Newt,” he starts, still not eager for company, especially since he can already see the glares Gally is sending into his direction.

“I’m really okay with just sitting around and moping all night.”

Adding a small grin to his words, he tries to convince the other boy to stop.  
  
---  
  
 

Newt clicks his tongue disapprovingly, and though he is pretty sure that the other boy is very honest when he says that he might not want to actually interact with all the others, he ignores that and leads him on.

"You’re the new one right now, but that’ll be over in a blink, just wait. And it does help to get to know everyone. Hey," he interrupts himself and smiles at Frankie as the other boy passes them, their firsts bumping.

Newt glances back over to the Greenie and just continues talking, gesturing as he walks. “I’ll give you a tour of the groups. Everyone here works in a different one, determined by where they’re most talented, it’s the way we keep everything running. Over there we’ve got the Slicers, they’re with the animals. The tall, white-blond one over there, see him? He’s Keeper of the Track-Hoes, the gardeners.”  
  
---  
  
 

He tries to follow Newt’s words as they make their way through the groups, even manages to return the few smiles he gets from some of the boys. Maybe Newt is right and he should stop hiding, go and enjoy himself a bit more, because not everyone seems to be as hostile and unfriendly as Gally. His eyes once again fall to the group of wrestling boys where the boy in question appears to be the one dominating one fight after the other.

Another thing he notices after a while is that Newt seems to be well liked, having to stop every now and then to answer a question or just listen to some story of how one Glader stole from Frypan’s food and now apparently is in deep shit.

It’s then that his gaze settles on a group sitting by the fire, quietly talking among themselves. And what really gets his attention is the fact that they're clearly not drinking any of Gally’s horrible, self-made alcohol.

"Who are they?" he asks, turning back to Newt who somehow managed to find another piece of meat to eat.

| 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  
  
---|---  
  
 

Newt follows the boy's line of sight when he speaks up, finally, for the first time since he started showing him around. One of the med-jacks, Jeff, has given him another meat stick as he introduced them, with a grin and a brief pat on the back, seemingly fresh from the grill. It smells delicous.

His gaze falls on Minho sitting among the others, looking thoughtful, and Newt wants to roll his eyes with affection. Wants to tell that thickhead to stop thinking so much and just have fun with everyone else for the night. If even Newt can do it, Minho should bloody well too.

"They’re the Runners," he answers the Greenie’s question. "Best of the bunch. Have to be, if they want to survive out there. They run the Maze every day, mapping it, trying to find a way out."  
  
---  
  
 

He’s still looking at the group, thinking about Newt’s words, his mind racing with hundreds of question when one boy, Asian looking, suddenly stares right back at him.

Startled he quickly averts his eyes back to Newt, who obviously saw his little slip-up, judging from the knowing grin on the other boy’s lips. 

“How do you become a Runner?” he asks with a small eye-roll, ignoring the blush that wants to spread on his skin. 

He feels like he should be more embarrassed about Newt’s silent teasing, but instead he only wants to bump their shoulders and laugh about it. Both gestures that speak of more familiarity than of just having met. He frowns slightly.

“I mean… how do you choose them?”

| 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       
  
---|---  
  
 

He catches the brief exchange between Minho and the Greenie, and he can’t help grinning a little about it. Yes, he knows all about how the other boy can be a bit intimidating if you don’t know him.

Newt chuckles briefly but lets it slide instead of saying something teasing about it, and indulges the newbie. “You’re right about that: they’re chosen. But it takes time. Every Runner was here for a handful of months at least, proved himself. We need to know what we’re doing when we’re sending someone out there.” He can feel his smile dimming a little. ”Too many don’t make it back otherwise.”

They found that one out the painful way, in the beginning.

Newt shakes the thought off and aims for nonchalance. “But really, don’t worry your head about that. No one _wants_ to be a Runner.”  
  
---  
  
 

_‘I want to be one. I want to run the Maze and get you all out of here.’_

The force of the thought surprises him, because he doesn’t even know what being a Runner really means, and yet it feels like it’s the one thing he wants to do in the Glade.

Not for the first time tonight he frowns at himself as he stumbles after Newt, trying to pay attention to the boy’s explanations even though his mind is screaming with confusion.

He’s still pondering his own emotions when a sudden sharp flash of pain in his back makes him tumble and fall forward against Newt.

A groan leaves his lips and when his vision finally clears he sees Gally standing beside them, a challenging smirk spreading on his lips.

| 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                  
  
---|---  
  
 

Newt was just about to go on with the rest of the groups, to point out Winston and the other Slicers, when a body collides with his. He stumbles a step to remain on his feet, but isn’t quick enough to keep the boy from tumbling to the ground. A different hand on his elbow steadies him but also pulls him back a step, though his first instinct is to help the Greenie back to his feet.

His gaze falls on Gally, the one who just pushed one of the other boys out of the ring and into the Greenie, and wonders what it is he sees there. There’s something there, definitely. He’s not sure if it’s just annoyance, or distrust, but Newt has no idea why. Gally doesn’t  _know_  him.

For a brief moment, their gazes meet, and then Gally turns his attention back to the other boy. “What do you say, Greenie?”  
  
---  
  
 

Reason tells him not to, tells him that Gally is taller, bigger and stronger, that he probably doesn’t have a chance to win.

But the stupid taunting smirks and words make his blood boil with anger. He may not remember his earlier life, but he’s sure he wasn’t a wimp that backed down from a challenge.

That’s how he finds himself in the circle being shoved and pushed to the ground. Once, twice, three times until he figures his only chance to somehow win this is his speed and agility.

Accompanied by the cheers and shouts from the other boys surrounding them, he ducks on Gally’s next attack.

It works.

Gally stumbles and falls down just before the edge of the circle. A spark of victory surges through him, his eyes finding Newt between all the other’s.

“How’s that for a Gree-” he starts, only to lose the ground beneath his feet in the next moment, his head hitting down hard.

| 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           
  
---|---  
  
 

Newt usually doesn’t mind these brawls. He never has any urge to partake in them, but he doesn’t mind them, really. Usually. But for some reason he doesn’t like to watch Gally and the new boy fight, it clenches something in the pits of his stomach, and he isn’t quite sure why. Not even if it’s because of Gally, or because of the Greenie.

It doesn’t surprise him that Gally wins, even though the new boy does get one good move in, taking the other Glader off guard. And the grin that curls around his lips in that moment when their gazes meet…

The moment, whatever it was, is far too brief to really comprehend, and then the newbie is already crashing down into the sand, and Newt winces instinctively.  
  
---  
  
 

White, bright light flashes behind his eyes, the pain sharp and stinging rolling through his system as he tries to catches his breath.

That’s when it comes back.

The name suddenly being in his head.

Just. Right. There.

Clear and solid like it was never gone.

“Thomas,” he whispers, the name instantly feeling right and familiar falling from his lips. “My name is Thomas.”

Shuffling to his feet he repeats it again and again, the relief to finally having something back that defines him enormous and overwhelming.

“Thomas. My name is Thomas!”

| 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                            
  
---|---  
  
 

It comes in a way that makes every Glader stare at the new boy in surprise for a couple of seconds, while Thomas… Thomas,  _Thomas_ … shouts in excitement that he  _remembers_.

Newt’s heart is hammering, and he has no idea why. Alby is the first to break the moment, and just like that, Thomas is one of them. Surrounded by laughing and cheering boys, even Gally is there to clasp his hand, though that look on his face still isn’t completely gone.

For the first time Newt has seen him, Thomas looks happy.

"That calls for a proper dance!" someone exclaims, and Chuck is the first to agree loudly.

Newt smiles a little, some tension in him finally coming loose.  
  
---  
  
 

“Dance?” Thomas asks at the sudden excitement around him, still grinning while he walks back over to Newt, who’s meeting him with one of his own.

“Is this some kind of… initiation ritual?” 

Getting his name back feels like a heavy burden has been lifted from his shoulders, and judging from the acknowledging clap on his back from Newt, he isn’t alone in it.

| 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     
  
---|---  
  
 

Thomas’ shoulder feels warm under his hand, even through the fabric of his shirt as Newt offers his own wordless congratulations. It’s good that he has his name back. Maybe it will settle him, reassure him a little. Show him that he does have a place here.

He chuckles a little at the question. “Not really. Just something we do for fun around here.” Newt glances over and sees that a lot of the other boys have gathered, and Alby has taken Chuck under his wing to finally show him what the moves are.

"Go on, Tommy, you should join them."

The name comes over his lips before he can even think about it, but it doesn’t feel like Newt could honestly call him anything else.  
  
---  
  
 

The nickname somehow surprises him pleasantly, leaving him with a strange feeling in his chest. But it’s more the way it feels right coming from Newt than the name itself.

So he doesn’t say anything for a second, just grins at the other boy and enjoys the moment.

“What about you?” he asks, finally looking away from Newt to watch the other Gladers fall into a series of choreographed steps to the self-made music.

“You could teach me?”

| 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                         
  
---|---  
  
 

Newt huffs out a small laugh, but he doesn’t get far enough to decline because another voice interrupts them.

"What he’s going to tell you now is that he sucks at teaching you any of that and you should better come to me, which is entirely true." It’s Alby, and he’s grinning widely, somehow having come up beside them. "But that doesn’t mean you can cop out, Newt," he adds and begins to steer Newt towards the rest, and he just groans, knowing he really doesn’t have a choice.

"Really, Alby? Tommy, come on!"

If he has to do this, the newbie doesn’t get to only stand around.  
  
---  
  
 

Laughing, Thomas follows Newt and Alby, hesitating only for a moment before he tries to follow Alby’s, and sometimes Newt’s, lead.

It comes surprisingly easy to him, and soon he’s able to dance the whole sequence without stumbling over his own feet.

At one point Newt disappears, but before he can protest he’s back, pressing another jar with Gally’s alcohol into his hands.

It’s enough to make him forget about being surrounded by a deadly maze, about being trapped, and about his missing memories.

| 

                                                                                                                                                                                                             
  
---|---  
  
* * *

 

  
  


credit @ [isaacbloodynewton](http://isaacbloodynewton.co.vu/post/104697870611/newt-and-thomas-staring-at-each-other)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The dance was, of course, entirely inspired by the gifs and videos of the cast of TMR doing something very similar. And another quick word in addition here: almost all the chapter titles we use are taken from song lyrics of all kind. We hope you enjoyed! :)


	3. Ghosts that we knew (All systems go)


    Day 2
    Maze Trials, Site A
    Perception

* * *

_Everything is white and clean._

_Sterile._

_“Remember, Thomas, WICKED is good,” a blurry female voice whispers into his ear, leading him further into the room towards the white couch where someone else is sitting._

_A little boy his age, also dressed in white. Blond. Holding something red._

_The image is hazy and out of focus, but Thomas still feels like he’s beautiful._

_He doesn’t understand why he’s here or what he’s supposed to do._

_“Go, be his friend.”_

 

“… wake up…”

Someone is shaking him, ripping the last pictures of the dream and traces of sleep from him.

“Rise and shine, Greenie.”

Thomas groans, his mind still clouded with sleep as he tries to focus on the face swimming in front of him.

“Winston?”

The other boy laughs and pats his shoulder.

“Hope you’re up for a day of work.”

Thomas groans again at the words while he sits up, a sharp pulsing pain shooting through his head at the movement.

“God… my head is killing me,” he complains, accepting the jar of water Winston is holding out to him. “Remind me not to touch Gally’s stuff ever again.”

Winston waits until he has finished the water before he pulls him to his feet.

“Smart choice. But no matter what, today is your day with the Slicers and I won’t stand for any laziness. Anyone who can drink can also work.”

Winston makes him eat breakfast, even though he doesn’t feel like it, and it’s only then that he notices Newt in the distance of the Gardens.

The strange feeling of the dream is suddenly back as he observes the blond boy, making him frown in confusion.

“What’s Newt doing?” he asks Winston around a bite of bread, not taking his eyes off Newt who is digging something into the ground.

The other boy follows Thomas’ gaze before answering with a grin.

“Gardening, I suppose.”

The sarcastic undertone of Winston’s words makes him finally look away from the figure in the Gardens and back at the boy.

“Look, Newt’s been here for a long time and I guess it’s his way to unwind, so everyone leaves him alone when he’s in the Gardens.”

The unspoken order is clear in Winston’s voice, and Thomas only holds his hands up in a placating gesture, not sure what he has done to prompt the other boy to react in this way.

“Good,” Winston returns with a nod before slipping into a grin again.

“Then let’s go, Greenie. Lots of work to do.”

As they make their way to the Bloodhouse, Thomas tries and fails to keep his eyes from falling back to the Gardens.

He wishes he could remember his earlier life. Maybe that would explain the feeling he gets every time he sees Newt. Or maybe he’s just going crazy.

Thomas shakes his head, and with one last look back he catches up with Winston.  
  
---  
  
 

* * *

* * *

 
    
    
    Day 849
    Maze Trials, Site A
    Council of Three

* * *

It’s strange, he thinks sometimes, that it’s doing this where he finds the most calm. It certainly isn’t what Newt would have thought, and yet here he is. Kneeling in the dirt of the Gardens to tend to the small tomato plants under the tarpaulin they installed above them just a month ago. And so far it really seems to be working, the idea that they don’t like water from above, like the rain that waters most of their other plants regularly. They are already bigger at this stage than the ones they have planted for the past two years, and that is a really, really good sign.

The Gladers usually leave him alone when he’s here, and somehow Newt is thankful for that. He’s ready to help each of them with anything, any time of day or night, but sometimes it’s good to be alone. Especially in a place where privacy is a commodity that is hard to come by most of the time. These minutes, hours if he’s lucky, give him room to breathe, calm his thoughts, give him a measure of peace, if he wants to sound so dramatic.

Usually it makes him huff inwardly at himself.

“Newt.”

He glances up and blinks in the sun, redirects his gaze and finds Gally next to him, crouching low so that they’re mostly on eye-level.

“I need to talk, to you and Alby. You got a moment?”

He isn’t sure why. Or at least he tells himself he isn’t sure what Gally wants to talk about, because the part of him that wants to whisper ‘Tommy’ is making more about this boy than would be realistic or normal. Newt isn’t even sure why his thoughts linger on him like they do, but… they do.

“Sure.”

Five minutes later finds them in the Homestead, just the three of them, and Gally’s voice is quiet but insistent.

“You can’t trust him. I’m serious.”

Newt needs to exchange just one glance with Alby to know they’re thinking the same.

“What do you know?” the black boy asks, his face serious, his arms crossed over his chest, and Newt’s heart is hammering.

“I’ve seen him. I’ve…” Gally searches for words for a moment, looking frustrated. “I don’t know, Alby, I remember… something. He was there.”

Newt sees Alby frown and glances back over to Gally, something sharp tugging inside his chest for a short moment. Sometimes he still misses him, that boy he used to be, without the frown, without the silences, without the harshness. Misses that quirk of a smile he used to have, the kind of humour that seems to have left him when he got stung by that Griever.

“There’s nothing else?” Alby wants to know, still serious, and Gally throws his hands up.

“There’s something not right about him. Most of what I remember is blurry by now, yeah, but I’m telling you he was there, with the Creators. I’m not crazy, I know that much.”

Alby looks at him for a long time and then, after a long moment, breathes out.

“Newt?”

He knows what he’s going to say. The only thing he can say, really, and he’s lucky that his heart and his mind speak with the same voice on this. He find’s Gally’s eyes, and despite everything he’s sorry, somehow.

Maybe they still know each other too well, even after everything, because Gally knows what his answer will be before he voices it.

“We can’t just operate on vague feelings. He hasn’t done anything, Gally.”

They stare at each other for a few long moments until, finally, the other boy starts to nod, as if he’s not surprised, but thinks they’re making a mistake anyway.

Newt catches himself wishing things were different, and is angry with himself, because wishful thinking doesn’t get him bloody anywhere.

Gally leaves without another word, and Newt sighs before he turns to Alby.

“I’m going to keep an eye on him.”

“Yeah, you do that,” Alby sighs, and for a moment Newt wonders what he’s getting himself into.

But only for a moment.  
  
---  
  
* * *

 

_I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream_  
_I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam_  
_And I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem_  
_But if I know you, I know what you'll do_

_~~... you'll love me at once, the way you did once upon a dream~~ _

  \- Lana del Rey


	4. Align my heart, my body, my mind


    Day 3
    Maze Trials, Site A
    First Stirrings

* * *

It’s still early in the morning when Thomas finally gives up trying to find some sleep. The pictures of his recent dream are still vivid in his mind, making him antsy and restless. He’s shocked his subconscious could even come up with something like that.

Sighing, he tries to shove the memory of Newt panicking, fighting, screaming, drowning out of his mind. Thomas isn’t even sure if it really has been Newt or if his brain’s just playing tricks on him and latching onto the only person he feels slightly connected to.

It feels strangely unreal.

To think that this is his life now. Stuck inside a maze like rats. And for what?

God, it drives him crazy to think about it.

Frustrated he quietly leaves his hammock, tiptoeing around the snoring Gladers to leave the sleeping area.

It’s only when he’s a few feet away, almost at the Gardens, that he feels like he can breathe again.  
  
---  
  
 
    
    
    Day 850
    Maze Trials, Site A
    Early Morning Talks

* * *

He’s awake early as always, at the crack of dawn before the sun even rises. It’s good, another few minutes of quiet that he enjoys before the Glade awakens to life, and he likes the colour the sky turns at dawn.

He walks with Minho over the grass, still a few minutes until the gates open. Talking for a while, because they don’t get to do it enough as it is.

"Man, I’m just glad nothing’s ever stung me," the other boy shakes his head and Newt huffs softly.

"See to it that it bloody stays that way, yeah?"

"Yeah, sure." There’s that grin on Minho’s lips that Newt can’t ever be cross about, and he rolls his eyes and nudges him.

He sends them off as he likes to do, when the doors open with their signature groan, and when Minho grins at him, buries a hand in his hair and puts their foreheads together briefly before running off, he hopes fervently as always he’ll see them again when the day is done.  
  
---  
  
 

He knows Newt doesn’t notice him when he passes the Gardens on his way back from where he talked to the Runners. For a moment he doesn’t know what to think about the intimate exchange Newt has shared with Minho. It’s none of his business and he really shouldn’t feel that tweaking sensation in his chest when he thinks about it. Thomas frowns at himself.

Minho and Newt are friends, he would hug his friends too. Surely entertaining the newbies isn’t Newt’s only job and maybe showing off the Runners is one of those other jobs.

Still Thomas can’t help himself.

“You always up this early?”

His words make Newt jump slightly and he can’t help but smile a bit at the reaction.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to scare you.”  
  
---  
  
 

Thomas does startle him, but once he sees who it is, a wry grin flickers over Newt’s lips. He hasn’t thought anyone else is up yet.

"Yeah, I am. Like to get up early," he shrugs and changes his destination, coming over to the other boy instead. "And it takes more than that to scare me, you know?"

There are a lot of scary things in this place, but Newt suspects that Thomas will soon learn what that means. They try to keep most of it away from the boys, but it doesn’t always work.

"Why are  _you_  up so early?”  
  
---  
  
 

“Couldn’t sleep,” Thomas admits, thinking back to the dream that startled him awake, and for a moment he has to look away from the other boy to block out his panicked face burned into his memory.

“Strange dreams…” he trails off before forcing his lips into a smile.

“So, is it your duty as second-in-command to send off the Runners?”  
  
---  
  
 

That startles a laugh out of Newt. “No. They’re all grown up, they don’t need that.” He shrugs briefly. “And I don’t always do it. But when I’m awake, when there are no other pressing matters, it’s nice to be able to have a bit of a chat. Don’t get to see them that much otherwise.”

His gaze lingers on Thomas, and for a moment he thinks it’s strange. There’s something inherently sympathetic to Newt about him, as though his guts have simply decided to like the guy, right away, without any good reason at all. At least Gally has a bit of a hunch about where his distrust might come from.

Newt shakes the thought off before he can wonder who might be right.

"So, think you’d like being a Slicer?"  
  
---  
  
 

Thomas laughs at Newt’s question, enjoying the way he always feels comfortable around the other boy.

“I like animals,” he answers, “at least I do when they’re alive.”

Shrugging he scratches the back of his neck, remembering all that blood when Winston had to butcher a pig for dinner.

“I think… I’m not good with blood.”

He knows he’s blushing, but he guesses Newt’s also someone who will decide what he’s supposed to do in the future. So he needs to know the truth.

“How did you become second-in-command?”  
  
---  
  
 

Newt smiles a little when he sees Thomas’ reaction, because he gets it, he really does. It’s the same with him. He likes being around the animals most of the time, sometimes seeks out one of the goat babies to play with, because he can freely admit that they’re adorable. But he couldn’t kill them, any of them, even for dinner. And he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he thinks it’s good that Thomas isn’t down with it just like that either. Speaks of empathy, and respect for living beings.

He likes that.

But the question takes him off guard a little, and after a moment he shrugs, pushing his hands into his pockets as they start to walk back towards the Homestead.

"They decided I should be. Dunno, it just kind of happened."  
  
---  
  
 

“Just like that?” Thomas asks with a frown, not quite believing that it could be that easy.

But then again, he gets why Newt’s one of those in charge here. The boy has a natural authority to him and a personality that makes people want to pay attention to what he has to say. Be close to him. Of course there’s the whole being nice thing, too.

“Does becoming a Runner also just kind of happen?”

He knows he’s being a little shit here, but he can’t help himself. No one here answers his fucking questions or he just flat out gets told no.  
  
---  
  
 

Newt can’t help sighing a little. He stops in his tracks and turns towards Thomas, honestly wondering what to do with the guy. Or where this obsession comes from. Usually once the newbies hear what’s out there, once they’ve heard the screech of a Griever, they’re all too happy staying inside the Glade.

"Haven’t you been listening to a word I’ve said?" he wants to know, but it’s not exactly reproachful, more tilting towards exasperatedly fascinated. "No one  _wants_  to be a Runner. But yes, if you want me to put it like that: it does kind of just happen, if you’ve got what it takes. Give it a bit of time, kid. I’ll tell Minho to keep an eye on you, how’s that sound?”  
  
---  
  
 

For a moment he isn’t sure if Newt is angry with him or if the boy’s just fed up with his constant whining about the Maze and wanting to be a Runner. And the last thing he wants is to be the reason why Newt’s upset.

“Sorry,” Thomas sighs, “I just… feel like I want to help you guys and I think running the Maze is the only way I can.”

A laugh interrupts his words.

“You know what, I really hope I’ll suck at being a Builder.”

| 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                             
  
---|---  
  
 

That brings a grin back to Newt’s lips, and he huffs and shakes his head. Bringing them back to walking with each other, he slings his arm around Thomas’ neck before he even thinks about it. “Don’t take it the wrong way, but I’m pretty sure you will,” he chuckles, then lets go of the other boy again and gives him a pat on the back.

"And I appreciate that you want to help, I do," he adds, his voice a little more serious again now. He looks at Thomas to reinforce his words. "You’ve barely been here two days. And in here it all looks nice and sunny, but that’s not what’s out there. Believe me."

'I know,' he almost adds but bites the words back.  
  
---  
  
 

Thomas isn’t sure if it’s Newt’s words or the sudden close contact that leaves him a bit confused (and  _that_  confuses him even more), but he nods anyway and follows Newt to the Homestead. The prospect of breakfast doesn’t sound half bad right now. If he’s going to spend the whole day with Gally, he can at least do that well fed.

“But I thought the Grievers only come out by night?” he asks quietly, because if that’s the case why couldn’t they just give him a try or at least tell him what’s so bad about the Maze during the day.

“Did you ever see one?” he adds as an afterthought, suddenly having the feeling that Newt spoke of experience.  
  
---  
  
 

Damn boy with his damn curiosity. But Newt has the feeling that if Thomas doesn’t get his questions answered, or at least some of them, that curiosity might drive him to do something all of them will regret.

He wonders for a moment why that doesn’t worry him more.

"Yeah, I’ve seen one," he indulges Thomas with a small sigh, subtly steering the other boy towards the kitchens where Frypan and the other cooks have already started preparing breakfast. They’ll be the first to come for theirs, the others probably still picking themselves out of their hammocks.

"They’re most active at night, but for a while at dawn and especially dusk you can run into one, if you’re unlucky."  
  
---  
  
 

That piece of information somehow startles Thomas. Or maybe it’s more the feeling that spreads through the pit of his stomach that startles him and not the information itself.

Unwanted and unexpected.

A sudden coldness like remembering a dark memory.

He halts in his tracks, a hand grabbing Newt’s upper arm to stop the other boy.

“But… ” he starts before breaking off, not knowing how to word his next question as it seems like the topic of the maze isn’t one Newt likes to talk about.

“How did you escape it?”  
  
---  
  
 

Newt stares at Thomas for a moment.

He should have expected the hand on his arm to startle him, or at least to feel like he should want the other boy to remove it, because it’s a bit tighter than strictly polite. But that’s not really what happens. It’s warm and sure, but what draws Newt’s attention even more is that look in Thomas’ face, the disquiet, even alarm where before it seemed like nothing about the maze could ruffle him.

The question is easy enough to answer. He remembers, all too well, the handful of times he did catch a glimpse of a Griever at dusk.

Newt gives him a small, one-shouldered shrug.

"I ran."  
  
---  
  
 

It’s the answer he expects and still it takes him off-guard, makes him shudder a bit. An unforeseen need to protect paired with the underlying sensation of failure runs through him, leaves him confused and motionless.

“You were a Runner,” Thomas states rather than asks and the moment he speaks those words and sees the look on Newt’s face he know he’s right.

He doesn’t know why he reacts this way, can’t understand why it’s so hard to hear something that shouldn’t matter to him. They’re not best friends. Heck, he barely knows Newt and he just shouldn’t feel like this.

He shouldn’t…

… but he does.  
  
---  
  
 

Newt thinks he really could have seen this coming, that this is the direction the conversation would head into. Of course he doesn’t want to talk about it (when has he ever?), but knows it’s also senseless to pretend that Thomas’ realisation isn’t true.

He just doesn’t want any more questions.

So Newt shrugs it off, literally, but holds Thomas’ gaze as he simply says, “Yeah.”

A part of him wonders, still, what that hint of dread on Thomas’ face is all about because, really, considering everything else, it’s the last thing he’d expect on the other boy’s face.

He nudges Thomas and tries for more casualness. “Does that mean you’re finally going to believe the stuff I tell you?”  
  
---  
  
 

Newt’s admission causes a painful skip of his heart, almost makes him wince. Because even though Newt tries to hide it with his playful nudge, Thomas can see the sudden coldness in the other boy’s eyes.

And that leaves him with an uneasy sensation.

Like he’s missing something important here, something he should know, but every time he tries to grasp that feeling it slips right through his fingers and all he can come up with is a black hole of nothing.

It’s slowly driving him crazy.

“I don’t know.” Thomas tries to force a smile on his lips. He’d love to ask more questions about the Maze and Newt’s experiences with it, but it feels like that door closed right in the moment it has been opened.

He tries to go for it anyway.

“Maybe you could tell me again? Tonight after work?” he asks tentatively.

| 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      
  
---|---  
  
 

The question exasperates Newt, though maybe not as much as it should. He still doesn’t want to talk about it, won’t ever want to. But something about the look on Thomas’ face, something about the tone of his voice makes it unable for him to actually get anywhere close to angry about it.

He just suppresses a sigh, rolls his eyes, and gives Thomas a light shove towards the kitchens.

"Go get some bloody breakfast."

He doesn’t have much hope that the Greenie will have forgotten about it by nightfall. Maybe he’s going to send him to Minho, let the actual Runner answer the questions about running.

Newt expects to be annoyed.  _Wants_  to, even, maybe. But as he catching himself watching the lines of Thomas’ back as he leaves, he finds that somehow he simply isn’t.  
  
---  
  
 

Thomas gives Newt a sharp nod in return, instinctively knowing he fucked up any chance for the other boy’s company at breakfast. He’s upset with himself for driving the other boy away, but Newt’s the only one, aside from Alby and Chuck, who’s really talking to him so far, and he  _needs_  to know more about the Maze and this place.

It’s a persistent feeling that just won’t go away.

He has almost reached the kitchens when something makes him stop and look back, watching Newt, not moving until his form disappears between the tomato vines.

After a moment Thomas sighs and shakes his head thoughtfully while he tries to figure out why he feels so drawn to this guy.

| 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 
  
---|---  
  
 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We want to thank you very much for all the kind words in the comments, for the kudos, and for everyone who's reading this! We very much hope you'll continue to enjoy. :)
> 
> Also, the thing right at the beginning between Minho and Newt was inspired by an adorable, heartbreaking, lovely headcanon we found [here](http://wickedisgood.tumblr.com/post/79728727694/i-saw-the-idea-that-baby-minho-always-held-onto), and loved it too much not to include it.


	5. A restless peace in my head (The curse ruled from the underground)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, thank you all so much for reading and your support! We apologise that things are moving a bit slowly right now, there's a thesis at fault that has to be written. We still hope you enjoy! Also, as we mentioned, we do change things around so that, for us, it makes (more) sense, as applies to this chapter.
    
    
    **[ January 19, 2232 ]**

* * *
    
    
    “Reporting increased prefrontral cortex activity in both Subject A2 and A5. They’re trying to remember.”  
    
      
    
    “The sense of familiarity will prove useful. As will the distrust and hostility Subject A9 exhibits. A2’s appearance is a rupture in the unit’s workings, just as we hoped.”  
    
      
    
    “A4 and 5 will keep them in line.”  
    
      
    
    “Eventually. But if we’re lucky, there’ll be some changes through which they’ll all have to assert their positions first. A2 is too restless, there appears to be too much of an echo left in him to just settle in.”  
    
      
    
    “Closer surveillance of Subjects A2, A5 and A9 is imperative.”  
    
      
    
    “Standby until further notice.”  
  
---  
  
 

* * *

* * *

 
    
    
    Day 3
    Maze Trials, Site A
    Conversation

* * *

It’s exactly how Thomas feared it would be.

It’s hot. He’s hungry and thirsty and of course he can feel Gally’s burning gaze at the back of his neck.

Constantly.

It’s driving him crazy. Makes him so irritated and angry that he wants to walk over to the Keeper and hit him straight in the face.

But of course he can’t, because the other boy hasn’t  _actually_  done anything. Everything is just passive-aggressive looks and insinuations.

Gally hates him and Thomas can’t for the life of him figure out why. And even though he finds himself inclined to think that Newt is right about most things, he  _knows_ that this isn’t one of them.

“Hey. Hey Greenie!”

It was bound to happen eventually, Thomas figures, so he shouldn’t be surprised when Gally’s voice calls him away from where he’s trying to secure a knot around the bundle of reed for the repairs on the Bloodhouse roof.

“Come here!”

Thomas sighs irritatedly, turning to see Gally waiting for him with the everlasting angry frown on his face. Right now, he almost wishes himself back to the Slicers. At least Winston has been somewhat nice to him. Of course he hasn’t really answered his questions either, but at least Thomas didn’t feel completely misplaced there.

For some reason this makes him think about Newt. He never feels misplaced with Newt. There’s only some sense of familiarity surrounding the other boy that calms Thomas down, even quiets the screaming need to run the Maze. It’s nice… but also leaves him fucking confused.

He sighs again and tries to keep from making an exasperated face at the Keeper as he makes his way towards Gally.

“What?”

From where he kneels on the ground next to more rope and weed, the other boy’s gaze flickers over him for a moment, and he raises his hand to wipe the back of his wrist across his temples where sweat has started to gather.

“They did show you how to do a proper knot, right?”

Thomas narrows his eyes, knowing Gally must have already noticed that his talent doesn’t lie with the Builders. As much as it bruises Thomas’ ego, but he really doesn’t have the patience for some of the small fiddling stuff that’s needed here.

So he just shrugs at Gally.

“Yes?”

Gally just stares at him for a moment, and then he breathes out and a look of pure exasperation washes over his face.

“ _Sit_ _._  I’ll show you.”

Thomas has to bite his lips to keep himself from rolling his eyes, or worse flat-out telling the Keeper no. He really doesn’t want to spend more time than necessary in Gally’s presence, but he sits down anyway, not wanting to start a fight.

He just wants this day to be over.

The boys around them don’t really take notice of them and keep working, chopping away on wood to bring it to the length and form they need, binding reed or sticks while Gally starts over with the explanation.

It’s not like Thomas hasn’t  _listened_ the first time, more like he simply isn’t made for that kind of dexterity.

Not that he’s going to tell that to Gally of all people.

For several minutes it’s all they’re doing. Gally showing him a new type of knot and he’s trying to get it right, only to end up with a messy replicate of the Keeper’s work. And what actually surprises Thomas is the total quietness of the other boy. No snappy jibes or mean comments, just them doing their work in silence.

“What’s your problem with me anyway?” The question is out of his mouth before he has time to really think about it. “I’m not different than any other new boy… and last time I checked you had nothing against Chuck.”

For a moment the other boy just continues his work, adamantly and maybe a bit too forcefully tying his knots, but eventually he does look up at him.

“You’re wrong, Greenie. There is something different about you. Something off. The others have no way of knowing, and you seem to do a good job endearing yourself. I’m not trying to threaten you, but I’m watching you. These boys here,” he says and inclines his head briefly towards the others, or the Glade in general, “they’re my family. And I’m going to protect them, so you better make sure not to do anything stupid. We clear?”

The sheer sincere force of Gally’s words makes Thomas pause and stare at the other boy, maybe even see him in a different light. It surprises him so much he even forgets the accusation for a moment. After all Gally might be right. Even to himself, the dreams and the strange urge to go into the Maze seem unusual.

And then there’s Newt. And it’s just a feeling, an echo of some kind, nothing solid or palpable. Just something Thomas can’t explain.

But he knows one thing for sure.

“I’d never,” Thomas swears. “I just know that I want to help.”

Gally has already gone back to work, and he gives a grunt in acknowledgement, but Thomas isn’t sure how convinced he actually is. Not much, if he had to guess.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” he finally repeats, not looking up at him this time. “And try to find more than one friend.”

Thomas frowns at Gally. He isn’t stupid, even if the other boy seems to think so, and he knows Gally isn’t talking about Chuck. Thomas just isn’t sure why Gally saw it necessary to point out.

“I’ve been here for three days,” he tries to state the obvious instead of reacting directly, feeling oddly defensive of his need to seek out Newt.

All he gets is a flat glance from Gally out of the corner of his eyes. “Yeah, people get attached to him in three seconds flat. I’m aware.”

“Okay.” Thomas really doesn’t know what else he’s supposed to say to Gally’s statement, so he just goes back to the knot he has been trying to tie earlier, and silence falls back over them.

Half a minute later he’s ordered to help carry the bound reed bundles back to the Bloodhouse, and Thomas is left wondering what exactly it was that just happened.  
  
---  
  
 

* * *

* * *

 
    
    
    Day 850
    Maze Trials, Site A
    Battle Stations

* * *

They have sought a place to sit where the remaining beams of sunlight still hit the grass as evening falls. Now Newt sits with Frypan, Winston and Zart to discuss where they’re at concerning their food rations right now, what they can expect to harvest in the coming month, what kind and how many animals they’ll have to slaughter. But it’s getting late, and though most Runners have returned by now, Minho and Ben haven’t, and so Newt keeps a constant eye on their doors.

He knows Minho will never get lost out there, not as long as he’s in his right mind, but… it’s getting late. And the more minutes pass by, the harder Newt finds it to concentrate.

He tries anyway, slowly rubbing his forehead as he goes over their number of chicken in his mind.

“Hey… I think they’re back,” Frypan speaks up then and effectively pulls Newt’s mind from all attempts at productivity. He wants to breathe a sigh of relief, but the way he sees Minho and Ben stumble in through the doors in the distance doesn’t bode well at all.

He’s on his feet in a moment and rushes over, taking in the way Minho is supporting the other boy, and already feels like he knows what happened.

“Minho,” Newt calls as soon as he’s close enough, pushing his way past the boys who have already gathered but make way readily for him. He grips Ben’s other side and meets Minho’s eyes over the slumped boy’s head.

“They were early… shouldn’t have been there yet,” Minho breathes heavily, his eyes looking tired and are speaking of a certain kind of resignation Newt hasn’t seen for quite a while in the other boy’s face.

Newt grits his teeth and resolves to not ask any questions here. “Frankie, go run ahead to the Med-Jacks, we need the serum. And someone go get Alby,” he says instead, concentrating on helping Minho with the other Runner for the moment. Ben seems barely conscious, merely stumbling along, and Newt wonders briefly where he got stung.

Together they manage to drag Ben into the Homestead, heaving him onto a bed-like construction which is reserved for the Med-Jacks’ patients only, Jeff and Clint already working rapidly around them.

“Think the serum will take?” Minho asks, worry and exhaustion clearly visible in his features, and Newt lets out a deep breath and comes to his side. They both watch how Clint holds Ben’s arm and Jeff injects a dose of their serum supply into the boy, and then Newt grips Minho’s arm gently and draws him away.

“We’ll know tomorrow. Are you okay?” he wants to know, now finally giving the other a closer look for any injuries.

Minho doesn’t look at him, his eyes trained on Ben, observing the angry, pulsing, black veins that are spreading over the boy’s skin.

“I’m fine,” he finally answers, “didn’t even see that damn thing.”

It does relieve Newt nevertheless, but he only nods. It has to be good enough for now, because he knows full well where Minho’s thoughts will be now.

“You brought him back,” he simply reminds him, hand tightening comfortingly on his shoulder.

“Of course,” Minho nods, allowing Newt’s comforting touch for a moment before stepping back. “But we might lose him anyway,” he adds and gives Newt the ghost of a grim smile. “I should meet the others in the map room. Keep me updated?”

What Newt wants to do is to give Minho a knock over the head for not trying to think of a more hopeful outcome, because they have lost way less to the Griever’s sting than made it. But he knows Minho, far too well, inevitably, and so he only gives him a nod.

Let him do his work, occupy himself to take his mind off this.

As Minho leaves, he makes his way past Alby, and after a brief glance between Minho and Newt, their leader has enough sense to let him go without any questions.

All they can do now is settle down to wait anyway.  
  
---


	6. There's a drumming noise inside my head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello dears! Before anything else we wanted to apologise for the long wait for this update, but it's finally done, Narya finished her thesis, and that means more time to write for us again. Which we will! Don't be worried at all. Here's our next installment, we really hope you'll all like it! :)

 

  
  


credit @ [isaacbloodynewton](http://isaacbloodynewton.co.vu/post/104697870611/newt-and-thomas-staring-at-each-other)

  

* * *

 
    
    
    Day 4  
    
    Maze Trials, Site A  
    
    Awakening

* * *

"Anyone ever tried to climb to the top?” Thomas asks Newt while while tries to focus on digging a hole into the ground of the Gardens. After what happened to Ben yesterday, Newt made himself scarce and, much to his dismay, had spent most of his time talking to Minho and Alby. Something that somehow didn’t sit right with Thomas. So he called it an early night after talking with Chuck for a while, feeling shocked and on edge. The sight of Ben, pale and delirious, hunting him until he fell asleep.

The feeling must have seeped into his dreams, because Thomas can remember running through white endless corridors and an underlying panic of being too late. For what, he doesn’t know. But he thinks Newt was there.

“I mean, maybe you could find something from the top,” he continues, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.  
  
---  
  
 
    
    
    Day 851  
    
    Maze Trials, Site A  
    
    Change

* * *

"Tried it."

The reply is instantanous, automatic even, and he doesn’t linger on it. And because Newt doesn’t want Thomas to ask any more questions about it, not about  _that_ , he averts his gaze from where he knots the branche to the wooden frame and glances over at the other boy.

"The ivy doesn’t go all the way from bottom to top anywhere. And besides, where are you gonna go from there?"

It still takes effort to keep his thoughts in the here and now, but it’s not as if he doesn’t have enough practice with it. Despite that, however, Newt averts his gaze and grabs the next piece of cord.  
  
---  
  
 

Thomas opens his mouth to ask the next question, but something about the way Newt averts his eyes after answering makes him hesitate. He feels like he’s missing something, and the way Zart avoids his questioning look only intensifies it.

It’s strange that it’s exactly then that he notices it. The way the sun catches in Newt’s hair, painting in a golden hue and the light softening the boy’s tired features. He notices the small concentrated frown between Newt’s eyes and the way his tongue sneaks out every once in a while. Thomas notices Newt and he thinks he’s beautiful… for a boy, he adds as an afterthought.

It makes him blush and he has to clear his throat before he asks the next question.

“What about the box?”  
  
---  
  
 

He’s not surprised that Thomas asks about the Box next. It brings back memories that are no better, of Nick and his body practically cut in half, so Newt doesn’t even feel bad about shooting the suggestion down. Of ending the whole line of conversation when Thomas wants to come up with even more after that. There’s just no point, he isn’t the only one who has turned it over and over in his mind.

"No, we tried it, alright? Twice. Trust me, anything that you can think of, we’ve already tried."

Newt can admit to himself though that he hates the look it puts on Thomas’ face, and something in him sighs. Where does that damn soft spot for him come from?

He could tell himself that it’s because he’s tired and worried about Ben, but Newt knows that would be kidding himself. So he says, voice gentle, ”Now look. If you wanna be helpful, go and get some fertilizer, yeah?”  
  
---  
  
 

He’s still a bit startled by his own thoughts, so the bucket Newt throws him almost slips from his fingers before he manages to get a grip on it.

“Okay,” he sighs, a bit annoyed and hurt that Newt brushes him off like this, and he wishes someone would just give him a big speech on  _‘done this and tried that_ ’, because right now it feels like everyone holds things back, even Newt.

The air in the small forest is pleasantly cool against his skin as he makes his way towards the place where Zart told him they stored the fertilizer.

Still muttering frustrated curses underneath his breath, he makes his way through the forest until he reaches a small clearing, free of trees and bushes, only dotted with a dozen wooden crosses.

The graveyard Alby has told him about. 

Thomas swallows dryly as he takes another few steps forward, wanting to take a closer look at one of the crosses. He’s just reaching out to let his fingers trail over the white writing when he hears the sound of a twig breaking. Then another and another coming closer.

The noises startle him, making him twitch and quickly turn, only to be met with the sickly, pale looking face of Ben.

“Wha…”

It’s the last thing he manages to get out before he gets jumped.  
  
---  
  
 

The days don’t come often, but sometimes Newt does wish he could just go to bed. He really is tired, having spent almost all night with Alby and Minho, talking in lowered voices by Ben’s bedside, monitoring the effect the serum has on him. It hasn’t been a good night, because there are cases where it’s obvious rather early that the serum has its desired effect, but Ben isn’t one.

He wanted to ban Minho from going into the Maze alone after that night of barely any sleep, but his friend didn’t want to hear any of it. So that was just one more worry he wishes he’d be able to just sleep off. And then Thomas had to go and put on his hurt puppy look, and how is he supposed to deal with this in the state he’s in?

Of course then the day decides to take a turn for the even worse.

Newt knows what’s happening the moment he sees Ben chasing after Thomas, a look of rage opposing one of pure panic, Ben spitting out curses and death threats, and dread spreads in his whole body. There isn’t any time to think, only to act, and he doesn’t hesitate to hit Ben over the head with the shovel, even though it  _hurts_. It hurts when his gaze finds Albys and they both know that it didn’t work, and that they’ve already lost Ben.

"Tommy…? Tommy," he mutteres the moment some of the other boys take Ben away to the pit, and he searches for Thomas, needs to make sure he at least is okay.  
  
---  
  
 

The air rushes back into his lungs the moment the body on top of him disappears and it’s the only thing Thomas can concentrate on for a few painful breaths. Getting oxygen back into his lungs and trying not to choke on it.

Then there is Newt’s face hovering above him, his voice calling to him and his hands are feeling pleasantly cool against his skin.

(He wants to lean into the touch.)

“Mm fine,” he groans, slowly trying to move his body into a sitting position.  
  
---  
  
 

Newt helps him until he’s sitting up, his own heart hammering, and he realises for a moment he was  _scared_ , that Ben would succeed in whatever he was trying, that Thomas would get seriously hurt. He tries to breathe calmly, his hand, of its own volition, finding the back of Thomas’ neck, resting there, and he looks him over to really make sure.

There’s nothing on him that might give him cause to worry, and slowly, very slowly, he manages to breathe more calmly.

"Come on, let’s get you out of here," Newt mutters when Thomas can breathe more evenly again, and he tugs him to his feet.

His gaze falls on Gally who is one of the ones who have stayed behind, his arms crossed over his chest, the look on his face serious. Newt thinks he knows what he’s thinking, and isn’t surprised when they pass him and Gally says quietly, “I’m not the only one.”

"Not now. Please," Newt presses out, tightens his hand around Thomas’ lower arm and leads him on.  
  
---  
  
 

It’s only when his feet suddenly feel a bit wet that Thomas realises they’ve crossed a little stream and that Newt has lead him back into the forest.

“Where are we going?” Thomas asks, confused, concentrating on crossing the small stream without slipping as his legs still feel a bit shaky with exhaustion and lingering panic. He can still hear Ben shouting accusations into his ears, raging hate burning in his eyes while his hands squeezed the air out of him. The boy wanted to kill him, no question, ranting on about him being bad, about him lying and not being one of them.

It makes him feel sick.

Because what if Ben was right and Thomas just doesn’t remember?  
  
---  
  
 

Newt glances at the other boy for a moment, and then makes himself let go of him. “Just out of there,” he replies, reaching up to rub the knuckle of his thumb over his forehead. He wanted to get Thomas away from everyone else, to prevent any confrontations from occurring, but also because he’s still more shaken than he wants to admit. Not that he even completely knows why.

So he lead Thomas away from where Ben has chased him out of the woods, back into it in a different place, out of sight of everyone else.

Newt takes a deep breath and then turns towards Thomas again. “What happened? He attacked without warning?”  
  
---  
  
 

Thomas shrugs and bites his lips worriedly. He really wants to tell Newt, but he’s also scared that the other boy will start to look differently at him or even worse, believe what Ben has said. It’s something he doesn’t want to think about.

“He just jumped me without any warning,” he answers slowly as they find a soft looking spot underneath one of the trees, both sitting down in silence, their shoulders touching. “He really wanted to kill me, Newt.”

| 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                          
  
---|---  
  
 

"Yeah, I saw that," he replies dryly, pulling his knee closer and staring off into a spot of moss nearby. "He must’ve woken up while neither Clint nor Jeff were around, and come out. This is such a bloody mess…"

Newt pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingertips for a moment, and then leans his head back against the bark of the tree. “I’m sorry that happened.”

He knows it’s not going to happen again, not with Ben anyway, because he’ll be gone by nightfall. That stings, like it does every time they lose someone, and he catches himself upsently rubbing his chest.  
  
---  
  
 

Thomas turns his head to get a better look at Newt, their shoulders still close, and he can feel the warmth of the other boy against his side. It has a calming effect on his nerves, the adrenaline slowly seeping away, leaving only the pain around his throat. He can see that Newt is upset, something like worry lingering around the boy’s eyes and in the corners of his mouth.

“Hey,” Thomas starts quietly, reaching out to stop the motion of Newt’s hand. A move that surprises him, but at the same time the gesture feels so natural and normal to him. And for a second he thinks he remembers something. A tiny flicker of a memory in the corner of his mind.

It’s gone in the very same moment it appeared, like lightening in the sky.

“Don’t be sorry. I’m fine.” Thomas smiles encouragingly, desperately wanting to ease the frown from Newt’s face.

_You saved me._  
  
---  
  
 

The warm fingers curling around his hand surprise him, and for a moment he can only stare at Thomas. There’s something,  _something_ tugging on his chest, undeniable this time, with more intensity than all those times it was just a fleeting feeling since Thomas showed up. It makes his heart falter and then race, and he has no idea what to do with that, how to react.

"Good," he replies quietly, swallowing slowly. And he  _means_  it, because he’s so bloody relieved that Thomas is okay.

He has to avert his gaze and push himself away from the tree, from the way their shoulders touch, because otherwise he wouldn’t be able to breathe right.

"Tommy…" he starts without really knowing where to go with it, what he wants to say, and what the hell is even going on?  
  
---  
  
 

Thomas tries not to flinch at the sudden loss of contact or at how the places that have been touching earlier feel glaringly cold now. The way Newt’s words sound lost and confused makes his heart clench painfully inside his chest and he wishes he could just pull the other boy closer again. 

"Yeah…?" he asks, leaning forward to search for Newt’s eyes, an unfamiliar tension settling over him, like he’s waiting for something big to happen.  
  
---  
  
 

He’s still there on his knees in the moss, only a bit of space between him and the other boy, and his hands hold him up on his thighs and he breathes, low and deep. Thomas is trying to look at him, but he can’t quite look up from the space between them, not yet.

But he does calm down. What the hell is it about this boy that makes his heart race in aching familiarity and just a moment later calms him like this, without saying a thing? This is ridiculous.

And it can’t continue like this. It’s only been three days, but it’s  _fucking_  with him, and he just… He can’t have that.

That resolution is making his head strangely clear. Newt takes a deep breath and finally looks up, huffs a little to himself. Leans forward and presses his lips lightly, very lightly, against Thomas’, because he knows himself, and this is what a small part of him wanted to do all along.

It’s over in a few heartbeats, brief and innocent, but that’s all it takes.  
  
---  
  
 

Thomas’ brain short circuits at the touch, which is gone before he has a chance to catch up with it. But it still makes his heart jump in his chest, tumbling hard with surprise and a shocking sense of familiarity. The kiss hasn’t felt strange or awkward, not like kisses with someone he barely knows should be, Thomas thinks. It was more like… something he just knew. It felt right.

When Newt pulls back, Thomas can see the surprise in the other boy’s eyes, probably mirroring his own. He smiles when he sees the beginning of a light blush spread over Newt’s cheeks and suddenly he wants to tell Newt everything.

“Newt… sometimes,” Thomas says, wetting his suddenly dry lips, “sometimes I feel like I knew you before…”  
  
---  
  
 

After all it’s nothing like he would have thought. It’s chaotic and right, and it feels like he has never been so close to something real, something… from before.

It stuns Newt, and he wants to do it again. There’s a similar kind of surprise in Thomas’ eyes, and the words that stumble out make so much sense because it’s exactly the same thing.

He just can’t decide if it’s the best thing that’s happened to him, or the most dangerous.

"I know," he can only say, then swallows and shakes his head. "It doesn’t matter, Tommy, okay? I just… I know."  
  
---  
  
 

Newt’s words set something free inside him, the anxious weight of not knowing if he’s just imagining things, finally being lifted from his shoulders. It feels good, like relief.

“I keep having these dreams, blurry images and mostly echos of feelings,” Thomas continues, the space between them still barely a few inches and he keeps caressing Newt’s knuckles with his thumb. Something of which he isn’t sure if it’s supposed to comfort Newt or rather himself.  

“I think you’re in them.” A shudder runs through Thomas at the memory. “I don’t know what it means, but I know that, even though we only just met, you’re the only person I trust here.”

Thomas stops then, taking a calming breath before a small laugh escapes him. “And that is really fucked up, isn’t it?”

| 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                       
  
---|---  
  
 

Oh God, how can any of this be a good thing?

But how can it be  _bad_?

This is ridiculously crazy, Newt knows that much at least, so he answers with an empathetic huff, some small part inside him lauging hysterically. He doesn’t even know if he wants to urge Thomas to try and remember more, find out what he can about what might possibly be there from  _before_ , or if he wants to shut it down before it gets any further.

"Yeah," he says and draws his hand away to rub both of them over his face. "This is  _really_ fucked up.”

Eventually Newt props his hands up on his thighs again and pins Thomas down with a stare. “Look, like I said: it doesn’t matter. I don’t know a bloody thing about before, and from what others have said, I’m not sure I want to. What matters to me is here and now. Make sure we don’t lose anyone else. Just…”

He doesn’t know how to go on and breaks off. So he does like Tommy, and what does he care if it’s because of some fucked up reason about the past? Whatever that is.

But does he want to do this? Does he really want to risk it?  
  
---  
  
 

“Just what?” Thomas asks gently when Newt stops talking, holding his gaze as he hopes the other boy will continue to tell him what’s going on in his head. The shadow sensation of the kiss is still tingling on his lips, a telltale sign of what just happened. It makes him ridiculously happy and content, like a lot of things are finally clicking together and fall into place.

It’s fucked up and it doesn’t make any sense and it’s scary as hell, a lot of things are ever since he woke up in the Glade, but now there are exactly two things he’s sure of. He wants to be a Runner and the other one is Newt.

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Newt isn’t entirely sure himself what he wants to say. Or should say. So he just lets out a breath and shakes his head.

"We should get back. I need to talk to Alby. Just needed to make sure you’re okay," he says and pushes himself back to his feet, one hand coming up to rub over his hair, always a thing when he’s agitated.

Thomas looks way too at peace for what happened only… it was only a few minutes ago, really. It feels way longer.

Newt sighs and tries to shake all of that off, instead holding out a hand for Thomas to help him up. “C’mon.”  
  
---  
  
 

Thomas accepts the offered hand and lets himself be pulled up, the leaves rustling underneath their feet as a strange silence settles over them. A frown flickers over his face when he sees Newt’s lost expression and the wariness in his eyes. And he hates to think that he’s the one that put it there. 

“Wait,” Thomas says quickly when Newt wants to let go of his hand and turn away. He tightens his hold on the other boy’s fingers, effectively stopping him from stepping away, and before Newt can say anything, he leans forward and softly pressed their lips together again.

| 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                        
  
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It surprises him enough that his heart stumbles before it beats on faster. It’s just like the first kiss, light and innocent, but it still makes Newt’s skin tingle, something that starts at the back of his neck and follows the curve of his spine to settle somewhere deep down.

It stays that way, but it lingers longer than the first, their lips moving softly against each other. And he does… he does want this.

The thought makes him draw his head back just enough that their lips part, realising then that his eyes have fallen shut. Newt swallows and looks up.

"Let’s go back."  
  
---  
  
 

The whole reason of why they’re in the woods comes back to him and Thomas cringes internally at the memory of Ben’s fingers around his throat or blood-shot eyes tinted with raw rage looking down at him while all air leaves his lungs. He had actually forgotten it for a moment. The sudden realisation that he isn’t alone with his… feelings or whatever, had effectively chased away everything else. Thomas feels almost bad for it.

Nodding he takes a step back from Newt, feeling like he needs to put a bit of distance between them to keep a sober mind.

When Thomas sees Newt’s face, he wishes he could read the other boy’s expression, because right now he absolutely can’t. Does Newt regret it or was the boy just worried about the situation with Ben?

He doesn’t know, so all he can do is answer with a quiet ‘okay’.

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